


Captain Obvious Paging Lieutenant Literal

by Unforth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (No Actual Homophobia), Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Businessman Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, First Kiss, Getting Together, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Implied Mechanophilia, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Mentions of Perceived Homophobia, Miscommunication, Rich Castiel (Supernatural), Secret Identity, Superhero Castiel (Supernatural), Superhero Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Dean, mechanic by day, vigilante superhero evenings and weekends, discovers the secret identity of his partner in crime-fighting, the Gadgeteer, and it's the last person he'd ever have expected......billionaire Castiel Krushnic, emblazoned in paparazzi-photographed glory on the cover of the National Enquirer, injured as only the Gadgeteer could be......and, according to the Tabloids, he's dating a guy, so being straight isn't the reason he's ignored Dean's advances all these years......and Dean can't escape the feeling that he should have seen this coming.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 30
Kudos: 245
Collections: DAU Secret Santa 2020





	Captain Obvious Paging Lieutenant Literal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deli (deliciousirony)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/gifts).



> Thanks so much for everything you do - not least of all organizing this!! You're amazing. Happy holidays, my friend! I hope you like it! :D 
> 
> (sorry it's so close to late...)

Apparently, Autozone was trying to get trendy or some shit, which was the only explanation Dean had for why he was standing in the checkout line with the specialized windshield wipers the Dodge owner had insisted on having installed in his car, staring at a magazine rack stocked with People, National Enquirer, and the Weekly World News. While the latest Bat Boy would probably make an amusing toilet read, Dean’s eyes were, to his chagrined embarrassment, drawn to the National Enquirer.

_ Billionaire Sex Scandal SHOCKER! Is This World-Famous Playboy Coming Out of the Closet? Read the Shocking Truth NOW on Page 21! _

The text overlay a blurry photograph of Castiel Krushnic - Dean kind of hated that he recognized him - holding hands with someone. The other person was mostly off-camera, but the trailing arm was clad in a formal jacket complete with cufflinks and their stepping leg was in dress pants and a fine wingtip shoe - clearly masculine attire. The person might be a man...or they might be a woman...heck, they could be an alien, with the amount showing, but then the headline would have been in the Weekly World News, not the Enquirer, and...

Whatever. None of that shit was what drew Dean’s attention. He wasn’t looking, really he wasn’t.

Except...Krushnic, devilishly attractive as only the profoundly wealthy can afford to be, and was less formally dressed. The fingers of one hand threaded between the other person’s fingers. His other arm was raised in a vain attempt to prevent the photographer from getting a clear shot. He was in casual sportswear, forearms exposed and fuzzy with dark hairs, and a healing wound was prominent - jagged tears in the flesh, 8 in total, forming an arc, with two noticeably smaller than the others. A casual observer would probably think it was a bite, except that no animal should have a mouth that shape.

No animal  _ did  _ have a mouth that shape.

Dean knew that, because he knew what had made that wounded, and had a matching one on his leg to prove it. The scabbed-over cuts throbbed to remind him of every time he’d accidentally bumped his calf since he, as his alter ego Tidal Wave, and the Gadgeteer had faced off against Hang Dog and his robot wolf pack the previous week. They’d had one hell of a fight. The robot wolves had fucking titanium jaws, strong enough that they’d been able to rip through the Gadgeteer’s power armor. Dean had been damn lucky not to lose his fucking leg, and he still flinched remembering the sound of those teeth sinking into the Gadgeteer’s arm. They’d come close to losing that fight, closer than Dean would ever fucking admit, and they’d both have the scars to prove it. Fear still beat in Dean’s chest when he remembered how close they’d come to defeat, how close he’d come to losing the Gadgeteer. 

They’d fought side by side for years, protecting Kansas City from every cut-rate supervillain that dared stir up trouble.

The only reason Dean hadn’t revealed himself, shared his identity, and spilled his heart, was that the Gadgeteer shot him down cold the one time he’d tried.

He’d come to terms with that. They had to protect themselves, right? The Gadgeteer might be straight...he might have a family...the more he had to protect, the more reason he had to keep his secret identity very, very, secret. Dean could relate; if he was found out, Sammy would be in danger, and he’d never allow that. But the Gadgeteer was different. Dean wasn’t afraid of him knowing, would have loved to have the Gadgeteer, whoever he was, be a larger part of Dean’s life.

“Cash or credit?”

The Gadgeteer was pretty damn great.

“Credit, thanks.”

And four days ago, the Gadgeteer had gotten his arm torn open by a robot wolf. 

“Ok, you’re all set!”

Nothing in the world looked quite like the bite of one of Hang Dog’s pets…

“Thank you for your purchase.”

...and Hang Dog had only just released that pack into the wild…

“Next!”

...and Dean and Gadgeteer had reduced them to scrap…

“Uh, sir?”

...and there were literally only two people on the planet who could have a bite like that.

“Can I help you find something?”

Dean was one of them.

“Come on, I’m waiting here!”

And apparently famous billionaire playboy Castiel Krushnic was the other.

“I’m sorry - I’ll take you on register 4 instead.”

And apparently, Castiel Krushnic was the Gadgeteer.

“Fuck!”

And apparently, Castiel Krushnic was dating suit dude.

“ _ Language _ , sir!”

_ But if he’s gay, why’d he treat me like shit? _

“I can handle your purchase next.”

_ Maybe...maybe it’s just me. _

“...sorry…”

Fuck Dean’s life.

*

Heaving a sigh, Dean looked around the bank manager’s office. Sirens blared in the distance. He was running out of time, and the Gadgeteer still hadn’t come. This was the problem with not exchanging fucking cell phone numbers or having custom wrist band communicators or some shit. Yeah, it protected them, even from each other - not that Dean thought he needed to be protected from the Gadgeteer! - but it made getting in touch damn near impossible. 

Though, now that he knew the truth...of course the Gadgeteer hadn’t wanted to exchange numbers with a schlubb like him. Probably had a gold-plated cell or diamond-studded phone case or some shit, dead giveaway that he was lightyears out of Dean’s league.

Usually, they met at crime scenes at roughly the same time, sort of by chance, mostly because they both listened to the police scanners, or so Dean had assumed. Due to circumstances this time, Dean had arrived first - he’d expected that, all according to plan - but the sirens meant that the cops were aware of his extra-curricular activities and that the Gadgeteer still hadn’t come was fucking weird. 

Bank robberies were their standard bread-and-butter crime fighting fare.

The Gadgeteer  _ should  _ be there.

Granted, Dean wasn’t  _ usually  _ the robber, but...details, details.

Red and blue lights reflected off the many windows of downtown and scattered as they struck the thick, bullet-proof glass wall of the office, painting the walls in lurid shades and making the annoying-ass footy pajamas that Dean and Charlie had souped up into a costume look like they were blooding.

_ Maybe I should go. _

The Gadgeteer  _ not  _ coming would raise a slew of issues Dean hadn’t counted on, but he wasn’t a complete moron.

_ But...I want to see him. _

He’d dodged the anti-vigilante laws for long enough that he took precautions by habit. 

_ I need to see him. _

Everything in the office was as it needed to be - the bank manager’s vault open, the documents Dean had gathered out on his desk, the--

“My apologies for being late.” The familiar, deep, raspy rumble of the Gadgeteer’s voice caused a shiver to trickle down Dean’s spine. “What’s the situation?”

“All clear,” said Dean, turning from the window to greet the Gadgeteer with a smile. Despite the damage his power suit had sustained during the fight with Hang Dog, he looked immaculate, armor gleaming, tinted helmet glass glimmering. His tool belt hung heavy around his hips, laden with the widgets and gizmos and gimmicks that gave him his name. The gun clutched in his gauntleted hands was all business, a defensive stance showing he was ready to raise it in an instance, his itchy trigger finger ready to shoot at the first sign of trouble.

_ I should have seen this coming. Of course he’s fucking rich - who else could have such an advanced get up? _

“You’ve apprehended the miscreant?” Experience had taught Dean to read the Gadgeteer’s tone, and so he could hear a frown, even if he couldn’t see it. The Gadgeteer’s stance didn’t relax in the slightest, and a slight head tilt betrayed his confusion as he side-eyed the office.

_ What’s he see? That there’s no one here but him and I. That nothing is wet - I haven’t used my powers. Even the fucking watercooler is still intact, as he must have noticed when you came in. _

_ Is he wondering what the fuck is going on yet? _

_ Well, he’s not alone...and that’s saying something, since I planned this shit. What was I thinking? _

_ Too late to back out now... _

“ _ You’ve  _ apprehended the miscreant,” corrected Dean. Fuck, had his suit always been this itchy? Had his face always felt so hot under his mask? What the hell was he  _ doing  _ here?

The Gadgeteer froze, tilted his head farther to the side, and turned toward Dean. Though his eyes were completely obscured, Dean could feel his stare like a dagger to the chest. “You robbed the bank?”

“Yup.” Dean grinned and threw himself into the bank manager’s chair. It squeaked and tilted backwards, and only his legs hastily slapped onto the desk’s top kept him from tumbling to the floor and looking like a goddamn dumbass.

_...or looking like an ever bigger dumbass...pretty sure I already look like a dumbass... _

“Why?” 

That the Gadgeteer asked the question in calm and measured tones while standing stock-still instead of launching into an attack was a credit to his faith in Dean and the rapport they’d built over years, and Dean couldn’t help but smile wider.

“ ‘Cause I wanted to talk to you,” he replied.

Stunned silence answered him. Dean would have paid everything he had to see Castiel Krushnic’s mask-obscured expression.

_ ‘Course, that’s only like five fucking dollars. Sorry, Forbes 500 A-List heroes, some of us are broke-ass mechanics. _

“You robbed the bank,” the Gadgeteer repeated. Dean nodded. “Because you wanted to talk to me.” A chuckle shook Dean’s chest and bobbed his shoulders and nearly capsized the fucking chair again. “I don’t understand.” Seriously, with the amount this bank manager was embezzling, surely he could have afford a less shirt chair? “You’re a hero, Tidal Wave. Why…?”

“Aw, don’t worry, I haven’t gone dark side,” said Dean, shoving up from the chair to perch on the desk, knocking aside trinkets and disordering the papers he’d so carefully placed.  _ Oh yeah, I’m  _ definitely  _ a dumbass.  _ “Well...maybe I’m  _ smidge _ gray, not lily-white pure Jedi. Who hasn’t got a little Sith in ‘um? I collected a pile of evidence, none of it admissable, that the Adler asshole who runs this place was abetting drug trafficking, laundering money, and embezzling from the bank, so I figured I’d set him up. Cop’s’ll find it, he’ll go to jail, case closed, wham-bam-thank you ma’am. ‘Fore that, though, it forced you to come out of the woodwork when we’re  _ not  _ in a life-or-death situation, and we can spend ten fucking minutes talking some shit out.”

“Is...that is to say…you…” Wow, the Gadgeteer was  _ tongue tied _ . Dean had never seen him all bumbly. Silent? Yeah. Brooding? Came with the whole  _ I am the night  _ vigilante schtick. Confused? Occasionally. But babbly? Never, and it was  _ adorable _ .

_ And what does it say about me that all I’ve ever seen of the dude is his armor and his forearm that one time, and all I’ve ever heard is his voice through whatever gives it that deep timbre, and all I’ve ever felt is the touch of his metal-covered fingers when he touches me, and I still want him and think he’s cute? _

_ Well, it’s not news that I’m a technophile...what can I say? I’ve got good taste. _

_ And so does he - after all, he turned me down. _

Gathering himself - rolling his shoulders back, holstering his gun, planting his feet - the Gadgeteer finally said, “Is this Adler fellow what you wished to discuss?”

His tone suggested he was assuming the answer was “yes.”

Dean almost felt bad for the truth bomb he was about to drop. “Naw, I wanted to talk about you.”

“ _ Me _ ? Wh--”

“You’re Castiel Krushnic.”

The casual camaraderie between them evaporated. With a  _ hsst _ , the Gadgeteer... _ Krushnic _ ,  _ I have to start thinking of him as Krushnic _ ...leapt across the room, drew his gun, grabbed Dean, hauled him from the table, and held the gun to his head. For a heartbeat, instinctual fear throttled Dean’s heart, and then he rolled his eyes, gathered some moisture from the air, and inundated the gun’s interior. The built-in electrical interface fizzed out and a couple sparks shot out. Dean extinguished them with a splash.

“Cool your jets,” Dean grumbled. “The fuck you think is going on here?”

“You tell me,” hissed Krushnic. “You seem to have planned this all out, haven’t you…”

“ ‘Course I did, I’m not an idiot - all the surveillance in the building is off, and yeah, the cops are close but they’re gonna have to figure out how to get in first, and there’s no one here but you and me. Trust me, I made sure of that.”

“Trust you,” Krushnic murmured thoughtfully, relaxing. “I...I  _ do  _ trust you, Tidal Wave…” Relaxing, he backed off and helped Dean get his feet under him. “I’m sorry my knee-jerk reaction was...well, you understand.”

With a resentful scowl, Dean straightened and rubbed at his throat as if Krushnic had actually hurt him. “I do. And it’s Dean.”

“What?”

“You’re Castiel Krushnic, and I’m Dean - Dean Winchester,” said Dean, holding out a hand for Krushnic to shake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Taking his hand slowly and shaking it tentatively, metal gauntlet cool against Dean’s palm, Krushnic said, “We’ve known each other for 7 years, 4 months, 18 days, 3 hours and 12 minutes. Forgive me but I believe that qualifies as us having met previously.”

“How the  _ fuck  _ can you just rattle that off?”

“Eidetic memory, remember?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah, I remember. Eidetic memory my  _ ass _ ,” Dean retorted. “I might not have all the hoity toity fancy-pants smart super powers like you do but even eidetic memory won’t help you remember something that fucking  _ random  _ unless…” Trailing off, Dean frowned.

He’d had this meeting planned.

It was supposed to be brief.

He was supposed to tell Krushnic -  _ hey, I know who you are _ .

He was supposed to tell Krushnic -  _ hey, this is who I am, now we’re even. _

He was supposed to tell Krushnic -  _ be careful what the paparazzi see, cause if I could figure you out from that arm wound, Hang Dog could too, and since he’s in jail, he might even have time to read the fucking Enquirer, and he could tell all those other fuckers we’ve helped lock up, and then we’d all be boned (pun intended). _

He was supposed to tell Krushnic -  _ here’s my digits, way better than trolling police scanners and just kinda sorta hoping maybe we’ll meet up. _

He was supposed to tell Krushnic -  _ no pressure, ‘kay? Nothing has to change. You’re still you and I’m still me and we’re still fucking badass mother fuckers alone and absolutely unstoppable together. _

He was  _ not  _ supposed to tell Krushnic -  _ I wanna jump your metal bones. _

He was  _ definitely  _ not supposed to ask Krushnic -  _ if you’re into dudes, why’d you say no when I asked you out? Why’d you act like I was the gunk stuck to the bottom of your clunky metal punk-as-fuck ass-kicking boots? Wasn’t I good enough for you? Is it the dollar store get up? Where’d I go wrong? _

He was supposed to  _ stick to the fucking plan. _

But if Krushnic remembered precisely when they met, that wasn’t random information to Krushnic, that was information that  _ mattered _ , data worth  _ calculating to the fucking minute _ , and Dean had no idea what to do with that information.

“Unless?” Krushnic prompted.

Nothing  _ ever  _ went according to fucking plan. After 7 years, 4 months, 18 days and however fucking many hours of doing this shit, Dean oughta know that by now, yet somehow he stuck his foot in it every damn time.

“And you’ve no cause to denigrate your powers,” continued Krushnic seriously when Dean remained silent. “We’re different, and that has been a boon for us. It’s true I do things you can’t, but you do things I can’t as well. For example, the damage you did to my pistol? Likely irreparable, and that’s all you. Not that I seek an apology - my point is instead, I couldn’t have done that, and you did, and I respect that profoundly. Also--”

At a loss, Dean shook his head, reached up a gloved hand, and took off his mask. Krushnic bit back whatever he’d been about to say, his stare intense through his mask. It was risky. If Krushnic decided he wasn’t okay with this whole secret ID sharing and caring thing...if someone came up to the glass outside of the bank manager’s office...if a single fucking strand of Dean’s hair went astray...but fuck it. Some discussions - some  _ people  _ \- were worth the risks, and there was no way in fuck-all Dean was prepared to process this conversation while wearing a glorified dollar store balaclava.

With a click and a  _ whoosh _ , the tinted face plate of Krushnic’s helmet swept aside...and revealed exactly who Dean had expected it to reveal. The billionaire was even more attractive in person, tendrils of dark hair teasing out from beneath the helm’s crest, the lights from outside twinkling in the depths of his dark eyes.

“This isn’t safe, Tidal W...this is  _ dangerous _ , Dean,” Krushnic murmured.

“When the fuck is anything we do safe?” countered Dean.  _ He chose “Dean” as a way to address me when he could have gone with Winchester. That feels like it should mean something, but fuck if I know what.  _ “Why do you remember when we met, Krushnic?”

Krushnic flinched, and Dean’s eyes widened as he watched every minute shift of that handsome expression. Krushnic’s lips narrowed, his gaze lowered, his tongue darted out and in, his nostrils flared as he took a slow breath, and he gave the minutest of nods. 

_ He’s decided something. _

“I remember everything, Winchester.”

_ Fuck if I know what...but whatever it is, Dean’s gone by the wayside. _

_ Looks like I blew it again. _

_ Typical. _

_ Except… _

“Bullshit,” Dean replied flatly. Krushnic blinked. “I’m not  _ actually  _ an idiot, I just play one on TV--”

“Are you an actor?”

“I’m a nobody of a fucking mechanic, but I still know how eidetic memory works. After seven some-odd years, I’d better fucking know how  _ all  _ your powers work, or else I’d have been a pancake by now about eighty-seven times over.”

“That is an oddly specific and also incredibly inaccurate tally of our most dangerous missions,” Krushnic objected.

“Gonna tell me exactly how many life-threatening situations you’ve saved my ass from, and prove me right?”

“I don’t understand.” The frustration in Krushnic’s voice would have been laughable if it wasn’t so genuine, and seeds of doubt burgeoned into venus fly traps the size of fucking buildings ready to devour Dean.

_ No, stop, don’t doubt, I’m sure about this...pretty sure...kinda sure...anyway, been there, done that with the venus fly traps, God, that plant guy was fucking annoying. _

“Look, I know that eidetic memory helps you remember facts, figures, events, data, narratives, right?” said Dean. “I also know, it doesn’t calculate shit for you. If you said,  _ we met on June 8th, 2013 _ \--”

“It was October 15th, 2012,” said Krushnic, exasperated.

“--then whatever, fine, that’s a totally normal thing for you to remember. But you ain’t got no mental calculator thing - I’ve seen you use that distracting-ass head’s up display mid-fight when you needed to figure out trajectories and shit - so yeah, of course you remember exactly how long it’s been, but only because  _ at some point you cared enough to calculate it _ .”

“But--”

“Naw, Krushnic - I’m gonna say this. I was gonna keep my mouth shut. You said  _ no  _ and I ain’t one to beat a dead horse or ask the same dude out twice, but apparently you  _ do  _ care. You called me fucking  _ Dean _ , for fuck’s sake. So, if you’re out here calculating to the minute when we met, and fighting by my side even though you could  _ easily  _ solo, and dating dudes and getting caught by the Enquirer, then I just gotta know - what the hell? Am I reading this all fucking wrong? Is it me?  _ What the actual fuck _ , dude?”

Krushnic blinked.

_ I have no idea what that expression means. _

Krushnic blinked again.

_ Fuck, I’ve gotten so good at reading him when he’s masked that now that I can actually see his face I can’t catch a single fucking clue what he’s thinking. _

Krushnic tilted his head, slowly and deliberately, to one side...and blinked yet again.

“I shouldn’t’a said any of that,” Dean muttered. “Sorry.” This time Krushnic  _ didn’t  _ blink, his stare as intent and captivating as Dean had imagined it would be. “Forget I opened my mouth. Clearly I got this all wrong.” Krushnic frowned. “We should go - cops are gonna get inside any minute, and the whole point is they get all the info and  _ not  _ us, and--”

“Dean,” Krushnic said, speaking with as much slowness and deliberation as he’d used when tilting his head. “There was...a great deal...to consider in what you just told me, so forgive me needing a moment to process.” Dean had been stupidly wrong when he thought Krushnic used a voice modulator; his voice was  _ actually  _ that deep and raspy and sexy, and the more he talked, the hotter it was. Dean was so screwed. “You interpreted my use of your given name, and my continued partnership with you, and my recall of how long it’s been since we met, as signs of my perhaps once having had interest in your person?”

“Fuck...like...I guess that’s what I was thinking but it sounds fucking  _ stupid  _ when you put it that way, and obviously I was wrong, ‘cause--”

Krushnic held up a hand to silence him, and Dean bit back self-recrimination. 

_ Of course it was stupid. He’s rich and gorgeous and well-known and I’m fucking nobody. Though, here I thought my only superpower was water control, shows what I know, turns out I’m fucking  _ stellar  _ at projection...I’ve wanted him for years, so here I am, presuming his desires match up with mine, fucking idiotic thing to do...why are we still here? _

“This is about the Enquirer article?” asked Krushnic.

_ Because he still wants to talk, apparently. _

“Or something,” Dean grumbled. No way in fuck-all he was explaining. Antsy, he eyed the exit, but Krushnic’s armor-clad bulk blocked the way out. Maybe he could use a water fist to bust through the glass. He’d done similar shit to explain many a sticky situation; maybe he could use it now to escape this fucking conversation. Of course, once the room was inundated, it’d be obvious to everyone and their brother he’d been there...what a mess.

_ This is why I usually leave the planning to the Gadgeteer...to Krushnic. He’s a brilliant rich businessman and I’m...yeah. Why did I think any of this was a good idea? _

“That article is wrong in nearly every particular,” Krushnic said. Which, now that Krushnic said it, should have been really fucking obvious, yet Dean had still taken it seriously. “The man holding my hand is my brother.” It was the goddamn  _ National Enquirer _ , for fuck’s sake. “He came out and said, ‘ _ hey bro, the ‘razzi are at it again, get inside before they get something incriminating _ .’” Who believed the shit printed in that rag? “When I moved too slowly, he grabbed my hand.” Idiots, that’s who. “The photograph the published is supremely innocuous.” And for all that Dean dared say  _ I’m not an idiot _ , he was steadily, point by point, proving he was actually a  _ monumental  _ one, especially when it came to the Gadgeteer. “The information they printed in text is false nearly to the point of being libelous, without actually crossing the line - that is their specialty, after all.”  _ Yup, it is, and apparently gullibility is mine.  _ “Every line of it is false.”  _ Why did I ever--  _ “Except one.”

“Huh?” Dean blinked. There was something in how Krushnic said that, intense and focused, that made Dean recognize that he was an ever bigger idiot, because he almost thought Krushnic sounded...determined? Devoted? Candid? What the fuck?

“I  _ am  _ in the closet,” said Krushnic, growing more earnest by the word. “Deeper than they can imagine, seeing as they actually seem to believe I’ve dated some of those women they’ve tied to me. I’ve dated no one, male or female, and will never date  _ anyone  _ female, because I’m gay.”

“Oh, uh. Awesome.” Dean tried not to sound as bitter as he felt. Krushnic cared enough to calculate when they met, lowered his gun at Dean’s merest word, dared to come out to him...and he’d still turned Dean down. “Thanks, um...yeah...you know, for trusting me with that, I guess.”

_ So it really is  _ me _ that’s the problem, huh...he’s happy to fuck dudes, he just doesn’t want to fuck me. I shoulda known...shoulda expected...shoulda-- _

“Now that I’ve answered some of your queries, may I posit one of my own?” asked Krushnic. Despondent, Dean gestured for him to get the fuck on with it. “What did you mean when you said  _ ‘you said no and I ain’t one to beat a dead horse or ask the same dude out twice’ _ ?”

A smart-ass reply sprang to Dean’s lips,  _ wow, Captain Obvious Gadgeteer Eidetic Memory Asshole doesn’t remember the time I spent an entire mission doing my damnedest to get in his pants?  _ but he held it back. As bad as he was at understanding Krushnic’s facial expressions, he was  _ positive _ he had the basics down on reading Krushnic’s tone, and he sounded confused, uncertain, maybe a little worried, maybe slightly fucking  _ hopeful _ , no, no way, that last at least  _ had  _ to be in Dean’s head, but regardless...Krushnic sounded  _ sincere _ .

Dean really would be an idiot if continued to believe he had the least handle on what was going on in this conversation. 

_ Time to tell the truth, go with the flow, and see what happens... _

“Uh...shit, it was like four years ago - you’d remember better than me, what the fuck dude? - lemme think...we were fighting that guy with the X-Ray vision, and you got all pissy ‘cause I kept making Superman jokes--”

“I wasn’t  _ pissy _ .”

“So you  _ do  _ remember?” smirked Dean.

“I remember…” Krushnic closed his eyes, expression growing serene as he recalled. “ _ ‘Gadgeteer, don’t you wish you had a power like that?’  _ and  _ ‘what I wouldn’t give for a chance to see how hung you are beneath that armor’  _ and  _ ‘man, thinking how dirtily I could use that power gets me all hot and bothered, what about you?’  _ and  _ ‘I dunno, might be nice if you could get a glimpse beneath my mask - I’m sure I’d love what I see when I look beneath yours’  _ and--”

“Got it, you remember ever word. Awesome. I sound like a skeezoid. No wonder you got pissy.”

“I  _ did not  _ get pissy.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t need perfect recall to recall  _ precisely  _ what a jackass you were to me, thank you very much.”

“Why are you thanking me for that?”

“Hell, Lieutenant Literal, it was a fucking  _ joke _ . You told me to keep my deviance to myself. I think you mighta even called me, like,  _ pert  _ or something. Never felt more like I had bouncy boobs or was a Jane Austen chick or something.”

“I don’t hold military rank.”

“ _ That’s  _ your takeaway? Don’t fucking do this to me again, Krushnic,” growled Dean. “I don’t got your memory, but that day is crystal fucking clear. I alluded to us banging, and you answered like a homophobic dick bag, and okay, I came on kinda strong. I deserved to be put off, but still...wanting to see your dick mighta been inappropriate but it didn’t make me  _ deviant _ . Charlie said I should stop working with you when I told her, but I wasn’t about to do that. Even if you  _ were  _ a jerk, we were - are - good together, and we’ve saved a lot of innocent people and kicked a lot of supervillain ass, and I  _ had  _ laid it on stupidly thick, so I had it coming. But, like...there wasn’t anywhere to go from there, was there? For us as an  _ us _ , I mean. Kaput. Fineto. Deader than a dead doornail that’s been melted to slag. Done.”

“You were being serious,” stated Krushnic,  _ extremely  _ seriously.

“Uh...yeah?” Dean replied, spreading his hands and raising his eyebrows in the most graphic depiction of  _ fucking duh  _ he could manage.

“You wanted to see beneath my mask?” 

“...yeah?”

“And you wanted me to see beneath yours?”

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“And you  _ genuinely  _ wished to see my penis?” Krushnic asked.

“Wait, hold on. Are you telling me that  _ that  _ was the  _ one fucking time  _ that Lieutenant Literal  _ didn’t  _ take me literally?”

“That implies that I should also have taken you literally when you said you were  _ ‘hot and bothered _ ’,” said Krushnic skeptically. “I didn’t see evidence of your having an erection during that mission, or during any others. Your costume wouldn’t hide that...it hides virtually nothing.” Now Krushnic sounded... _ appreciative _ ?

“I mean...look at me,” Dean grinned and preened with a false show of confidence. He  _ did  _ have a nice package. “I  _ am  _ hot…and I was obviously bothered, you kept ignoring me and then you called me  _ deviant _ .”

“I thought you were implying you wished to spy on women in locker rooms and the like,” said Krushnic, and though his expression was flat, his tone was pure stricken helpless confusion, and something in Dean’s chest snapped. A laugh barked out of him, so loud he startled himself, followed by another, another, another, until he had an arm around his middle and tears in his eyes.

“Why are you  _ laughing _ ?” Krushnic demanded, even more helpless, even more confused, even more  _ abso-fricken-lutely adorable _ .

“Because...because  _ you _ ,” Dean managed with a vague wave in Krushnic’s direction. “Because  _ me _ . Because  _ us _ ! Because  _ this _ . Seriously, dude - why the fuck did you memorize how long we’ve known each other?”

“Meeting you has been one of the most important events of my life,” replied Krushnic, and damn if he wasn’t starting to sound pissy again. “And I could overlook your occasional high school antics, because the man you are is so much  _ more  _ than that.” 

With effort, Dean reined in his amusement. They were actually fucking getting somewhere, for once, no way he was gonna blow it just ‘cause the whole thing was beyond absurd. “Just like…” Dean huffed out another laugh, quashed it, wiped his eyes, and tried again. “Just like I overlooked what I thought was random homophobia?”

“I’m not homophobic.”

“And I’m not twelve, relying on fart jokes and tittering when someone uses the word pencil because it bears the world’s vaguest fucking resemblance to a dick. I actually wanted to get in your pants, and then some.” 

A shudder ran through Dean, evaporating his humor, leaving him cold. 

Krushnic stared at him.

There was a loud  _ bang  _ from the direction of the bank’s entrance. 

They were running out of time, and for all that Dean could put himself down for days, he couldn’t  _ believe  _ he’d read this conversation so wrong, that he’d read their partnership wrong for so, so long. He’d rarely dared to hope, and he’d been so  _ put out _ when he’d learned that the Gadgeteer was Castiel Krushnic, and into men, just not into  _ him _ , but now, it sounded like...it almost seemed like...it might be…

...and Dean hoped…

...he really,  _ truly _ , hoped...

...and so he steeled himself and muttered, “Still do.”

“...you still want to get in my pants?” asked Krushnic, flat, expressionless, damn unreadable bastard.

“Have you looked at you?” grunted Dean. “Who  _ wouldn’t  _ want to get in your pants?”

“I’m well aware that I am an attractive man, Winchester,” Krushnic said, anger tinging his voice. “I’m also a tremendously wealthy one, and much sought after, as the Enquirer article surely makes clear. What I’m striving to understand now is...you  _ hadn’t  _ looked at me, had seen nothing but my power armor, and didn’t know who I was - or else I can’t imagine why you held off on exposing that knowledge until now?”

“Naw, you’re right, I figured it out from the Enquirer thing.”

“So to answer your question yes, I’ve seen me. I’m used to people wanting to remove my trousers. That is a common dynamic in my life, in  _ Castiel Krushnic’s  _ life, but you’d never met Castiel Krushnic. What I can’t fathom is why did  _ you _ , Tidal Wave, want to get into the Gadgeteer’s steel breeches?”

Oh.

That.

“Uh.” Pursing his lips (not pouting,  _ definitely  _ not pouting), Dean ran a hand through his hair. Shit, they were gonna have to vacuum the room and then steal the vacuum as part of their site clean up. “Like. You’re awesome? Brilliant? Smart? Funny? You keep saving my life? And you seem to think I’m okay, too? Whaddaya want me to say, Krushnic? Tidal Wave and the Gadgeteer are a badass team - remember that time the LA crew tried to recruit us? We’re awesome - and I thought - think - you were - are - awesome, and for a hot minute there I kinda thought maybe  _ you  _ thought  _ I _ was awesome, and so I took a chance, and epic failed. I thought you’d wanted to nip the whole  _ dude on dude holy gay chicken, batman  _ shit in the bud and make it clear you were arrow straight, but then I saw the Enquirer thing and it said you were with a dude, and I just...I dunno. I wanted to talk. I wanted to know more. Maybe that was fuckin’ dumb of me, wouldn’t be the first time, but--”

In a rush of movement, armor reflecting a cascade of fragmented lights from outside, Krushnic crashed into Dean and smacked their faces together. Their noses bumped. The edges of Krushnic’s neck armor dug into Dean’s chin. His forehead pressed into the helmet.It hurt, but it was impossible to care when Krushnic’s lips finally found his, chapped and hot, and they kissed. Flickers of warmth sparked underneath Dean’s skin, and that spot on his chin was going to bruise, and Dean tried to grab Krushnic’s shoulders and bring him closer but his hands slid on smooth metal, and he had to full-on duck face to get his lips far enough forward to find Krushnic’s mouth, and fuck if it wasn’t one of the  _ worst  _ kisses he’d ever had.

Krushnic pulled away as abruptly as he’d approached, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. “Sorry. I’m sorry. That was completely inappropriate. I shouldn’t have...I mean…”

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” said Dean thoughtfully. “Consent is a thing, dude, and have you ever tried to kiss someone with that helmet on before? Because...no. Just no.”

“I’m so, so sorry...I can’t apologize enough. Tell me what acts of contrition will be adequate for me to recompense you and I will do my all to make it up to you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Anything?”

“Please don’t ask me for monetary remuneration...”

“What? Fuck, no, why would I…? The hell do you take me for? But if you’re  _ really  _ sorry, you better take that fucking helmet off and kiss me for real.”

“Oh.”

“Cause that kiss was fucking  _ garbage _ .”

“It  _ was  _ bad, wasn’t it,” said Krushnic sheepishly. “I’ve never tried to kiss anyone while in costume. I didn’t realize how far before my face this truly protruded.”

“I’m gonna have a bruise!”

“Apologies,” Krushnic said, but there was a gleam in his eye, and smirk on his lips, and fuck did Dean want to kiss him again. “I will most certainly work diligently to make this up to you, so that I can give you a kiss as marvellous as you deserve. What if I get it wrong again?”

“Pfft, fuck that - if you fuck it up again, you’ll just have to kiss me as many times as necessary, until you get it right!”

“Absolutely,” Krushnic grinned, his tone teasing false contrition. “And you said you wished to talk?”

“You know I did.”

“You’re right, I do know...yes, Winchester...Yes,  _ Dean _ , let’s talk,” he said. Somewhere outside, glass shattered. “But maybe not here. Shall we go elsewhere?”

Dean didn’t bother confirming; he gathered water from the air and punched at the office glass. It fractured under his first blow, split under his second, and shattered when Krushnic charged forward and punched it with his power-enhanced gauntleted fit. 

“Oh, man...watching you move in that get up that never gets old...,” Dean said, tugging his mask down over his head. “You’re alright, Krushnic...Cas? Can I call you Cas?”

“Please,  _ please  _ do,” replied Cas, his sincere smile gorgeous in the moment before his faceplate whooshed back into place. 

“You’re alright,  _ Cas _ ...you are a-ok.”

“Forgive me saying, Dean, but I  _ truly  _ hope that you and I will  _ both  _ be much better than a-ok.” The warmth of Cas’ tone was so much more obvious to Dean now that he was interpreting body language and intonation again, and it brought a glow to Dean’s chest.

“Look, my power ain’t precognition, but...I don’t think you gotta worry. As far as I can see? Our future looks  _ fantastic _ .”

“...you know if things go wrong, I’m gonna quote you on that…”

“ ‘Course you will,” Dean grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from Lieutenant Literal. But trust me - nothing’s gonna go wrong.” 

“I do trust you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Me neither, Cas - back atcha. Now, you ready to face danger and the full wrath of the KC popo?”

“With you at my side, Dean? I’m ready to face anything. What do you say we blow this popsicle stand?”

“...this isn’t a popsicle stand…” pointed out Dean.

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant Literal,” Cas laughed, and hell but Dean  _ definitely  _ popped half-wood in his supersuit.

Cas was so right...their future was going to be much,  _ much  _ better than a-ok.

Tidal Wave and the Gadgeteer, Dean Winchester and Castiel Krushnic, side by side?

Their future was going to be  _ awesome - the awesomest. _

Epic. Win.


End file.
